Luyện nghe bài hát Light Pollution

John A. Hobson was a man
He to loan me books and mic stands
He got me a subscription
To the Socialist

to records in his basement
Old folk about the government
It's love of not the market
He said these fuckers on you

And freedom yells, it cry
Whatever sells decide
But no hell when you die
So don't so worried

He got a life, lost his day job
Pushing papers, pendulums
Anything to a function
Or to some time

You gotta this living somehow
You're good as dead without a bank
But it's funny how alive he has down
In unemployment line

With all that trash at his
The pools of piss in the
All of filthy empathy
For the way feeling

worry
Don't
Don't

The billboards
The they wave
The anthem's loud
The baseball was letting out

And all at
You saw the and heard
Every sound
Got in his truck and turned

Drove out through the and the cops
Drove out past center mall
Drove out that sickening sprawl
Out that fenced in gold

And he lost control
with the radio
But I bet the seem so close
At the end

At the end
At the end
At the end
...